


Roots

by yourmothersmeatloaf



Series: on god [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Origin Story, this only makes sense if you read the other story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28216734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourmothersmeatloaf/pseuds/yourmothersmeatloaf
Summary: This will only make sense if you’ve read Just Roll With It, but I wanted to write something for the story to break up writing the actual story, so,origin stories for the OCs!
Series: on god [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067030
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Cole

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DerekTheTinySmolAlpha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerekTheTinySmolAlpha/gifts).



Cole followed behind his dads closely. It certainly wasn’t their  _ first  _ time vacationing in Japan, but it was the first time their vacation lined up with a volleyball tournament at the high school level. According to his papa, Japan took high school volleyball very seriously, and that much was obvious by the size of the venue and how filled out the stands were.

Cole just started his own high school career, himself. Fourteen years old and standing at six foot four. He got a lot of strange looks in his class, but he didn’t mind so much. He planned on playing volleyball professionally, just like his papa, and having the height and length to support that was all that really mattered to him.

He sat heavily between his dads, sinking into his hoodie, attempting to appear small despite that action being very impossible. He looked down to the several courts set up down in front of him, unsure which one would host the specific team his papa wanted to see.

“Look, Obretch,” his papa pointed to the scoreboard directly in front of him. “Karasuno versus Inarizaki.”

“Okay?” Cole shrugged.

“Karasuno has only ever been to Nationals once, from what I heard. Inarizaki has been in the public eye for a long time now.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh,” his dad said. “I  _ love  _ an underdog.”

His papa pushed his dad by the shoulder, “You don’t need to tell  _ me  _ that.”

His dad laughed and wrapped an arm around Cole as the teams were announced and ran out onto the court to warm up. Cole took out his phone and opened his snapchat. He didn’t really care about the game. Why should he? He didn’t know them.

_ “Holy smokes!”  _ His papa shouted, standing, eliciting protests from the people behind him.

“What?” His dad asked.

“You ask that like you didn’t just  _ see  _ the Miya twins steal that quick attack!”

Cole slowly moved his phone out from in front of his vision as the room outraged. He became suddenly aware of his surroundings. He noticed that the black school had an  _ entire fucking band  _ playing for them. That was insane. He stood and began pushing by his dad.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Bathroom.”

“You need me to come with you?” His dad started to stand and Cole sighed.

“Heller, c’mon, he’s a young man,” his papa pulled his dad down by the hand into what  _ was  _ Cole’s seat before wrapping an arm around him.

His dad smiled at him, “If you aren’t back in thirty minutes I’m calling the police.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cole muttered as he walked away.

He kept his eyes on the game as he walked through the aisle, then ran into someone as he accidentally stepped onto the staircase without realizing.

«Hey, watch it,» a deep voice said.

Cole startled and looked into dark eyes, being even in height despite standing a stair lower, “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

The guy stared down at him and Cole cracked under the pressure of his judgemental gaze. He quickly passed around him, making his way up the stairs then glanced back down when he was far enough away. The guy wore an entirely red tracksuit and had extremely messy hair. It was as if he woke up that way. Cole watched him from his peripheral as he sat with a group of boys all dressed just like him. Were they a team?

Cole continued wandering, getting lost. He began panicking and walked faster, not able to read any of the signs. He looked around as he walked through a dim hall, then came out at the bottom of the gymnasium, by the courts.

_ ‘Oh, shit,’  _ he thought.

He wasn’t meant to be there, but… No one seemed to notice. He thanked his tall height and bad fashion decisions as he blended in with the other players milling around. His eyes landed on a goofy looking couple, watching Karasuno play. In fact, he  _ knew  _ who that one was. How couldn’t he? He looked simply… hilarious.

That was Kōtarō Bokuto, the one in specific his papa wanted to come watch. He slowly walked forward and strained to hear him talk to his friend. Not that he could understand anything aside from their tone.

«Karasuno’s gotten to be fairly good,» the shorter one with black hair said in a soft voice.

«We’re still better!» Bokuto shouted angrily.

«I suppose we’ll have to see.»

«Yes, you  _ will  _ see that we’re better, Akaashi.»

Cole furrowed his brow as Not-Bokuto looked up to Definitely-Bokuto with a soft smile. That was not a gaze that friends exchanged. Bokuto ran his hand lightly over his “friend’s” back before hitting their shoulders together.

«Right, well, the time is now,» Not-Bokuto muttered.

«Time for the next game?»

«Yes.»

They turned back and faltered as they saw Cole. He took a step back and got out of their way. Bokuto went right back on yelling while Not-Bokuto stared cooly at Cole the entire time they passed by. Cole didn’t look at Not-Bokuto so much, as Bokuto himself was simply much more impressive.

“Uh, hey! Wait!”

He froze as they actually did as he asked, and turned back to them.

“Yes?” Not-Bokuto raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, um,” Cole faltered, not knowing what he wanted. He didn’t plan that far. “You speak english?”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh, well,” Cole stammered.

“Listen, we have a game, do you—“

“My dad really likes Bokuto.”

“Bokuto-san?”

«What?» Bokuto looked between them.

«Apparently his dad is a fan.»

«Ah, you don’t say,» Bokuto smiled widely.

“Huh?” Cole asked.

«Akaashi! Marker!» Bokuto demanded.

«Why on earth would I have a marker right now?»

«For this  _ exact  _ situation?» Bokuto laughed, shaking his head.

Not-Bokuto shook his head and walked away while Bokuto looked around for a moment, then quite literally reached over to someone who was actively using a marker and taking it from their hand.

«My first autograph!» Bokuto laughed. «I mean, my one millionth! Where do you want it?»

Cole cocked his head at him before he was aggressively spun around and bent over. Bokuto leaned on him and stuck his tongue out as he wrote his name on Cole’s white school jacket. He tossed the marker back to who he stole it from without looking, and they struggled to catch it before missing, glaring at Bokuto the entire time. The ace raised a hand to Cole with a smirk and turned away.

«Later, fan boy!»

Cole shrugged off his jacket and looked at Bokuto’s name written sloppily right in the middle just below his collar. He smiled wickedly at it before looking back up.

“Hey, Bokuto?”

Bokuto turned to look over his shoulder.

“What about your friend?”

Bokuto cocked his head and Cole shook his own before pointing after where Not-Bokuto went and gestured with his hand, feigning signing something. Bokuto smirked again before turning around and screaming,  _ «Akaashi!» _

Not-Bokuto— Akaashi was already waiting for his friend, but began walking back with a sigh. Cole apologetically took the marker back from the exasperated person and presented it along with his jacket to Akaashi.

“Um. Please.”

Akaashi frowned down to the objects before taking them from him, spreading the fabric across the intensely excited Bokuto’s back and writing his name neatly directly beside Bokuto’s. The spiker snatched the jacket up and beamed at it.

«Akaashi-san, our names are beside each other’s forever on here! Just how they should be.»

«Sure, Bokuto-san.»

Akaashi started pulling him away by his Fukurōdani jacket and Bokuto threw Cole’s jacket and marker back at him before patting his cheek and heading off for good. Cole watched after them, feeling like he met the coolest people alive, despite only seeing them play on television once.

He looked down at the signatures the entire way back to his dads, and sat heavily between them as his dad moved back over. 

“I was just about to call the police. Why’d that take so long?”

Cole didn’t answer. He honestly didn’t even hear him. He just stared down to the signatures, wanting to watch those two play again.

“Wow, are those autographs?” His papa asked. “Whose?”

“Kōtarō Bokuto.”

“And?”

“The other one.”

“Akaashi Keiji?”

“Sure.”

“That’s pretty awesome.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Look at this libero, Obretch,” his papa pointed.

Cole adjusted his eyes to the guys in the terrible orange uniforms. His eyes moved to the server in black, with terrible, awfully bleached hair. He delivered a devastating jump floater, clearly singling out the other team’s libero. Cole sat forward as he failed to dig it up.

“Oh.”

“All the other players have been avoiding him so far,” his papa said.

Cole looked up at him then frowned back down as the orange team called a time out.

“Why would they avoid him? He seems like a weak spot.”

“Oh, no. That libero is incredible for his league.”

“He just let them get an ace. He didn’t even try getting that jump float with an overhand receive.”

“That isn’t a skill lots of young players have,” his papa sat back.

“Yeah, but if he would just  _ try.  _ Liberos aren’t supposed to just  _ give up,”  _ Cole glared down as one of his teammates taped his fingers for him.

“I don’t think he’s giving up,” his dad said.

“Huh?” Cole looked at him, then back down.

The little libero was doing finger pushups. Cole smirked down. That was more like it. He moved up in his seat as the teams returned to the court. Dumb looking blonde guy served another jump float.

“C’mon,” Cole whispered, eyeing the libero, because god knew that’s where the serve was going.

His heart hammered in his chest before disappointment blossomed as he once again went for an underhand receive. As predicted, he couldn’t dig up the ball. Cole slumped his shoulders as he watched the libero.

Blondie served again and the libero once again went for an underhanded receive. 

“Lift you  _ goddamn hands,”  _ Cole anguished.

“Obretch, watch your mouth,” his dad scolded.

“Sorry.”

He stood up as the libero actually got the ball up. His eyes followed it around the court, taking in the large boys down below. His heart raced. He forgot about the libero entirely as he started paying more attention to the blondie. He… was something else.

Surely, the guy that looked just like him but sad was nearly just as amazing, but the blond one. He was incredible.

Cole sat back and ate him up, ignoring whatever his dads said around him. He was entirely engrossed in the world of the blond setter. He seems psychopathic. But he seemed nearly entirely in control during that second set. Even when his papa tried getting his attention to go watch the Fukurōdani game, Cole couldn’t move. Bokuto was cool, but he was no  _ that guy.  _ That was a guy that never lost. He commanded everything around him. His teammates, his audience, the ball, all of it. It was… amazing. He even made Cole consider making his papa’s dreams come true and go back to being a setter.

So, imagine his shock and horror when blondie lost it all by the end.

Cole gripped the railing tightly in his hands as he leaned over and watched them closely. The ball hit off of the orange team’s hands and slapped back down onto the black team’s court. A couple of their players dived down to get it, but were too late. Cole let out a shaky breath. His eyes skated over the orange team as they cried together. Maybe they  _ deserved  _ to win. But, so did the black team.

He sighed and found his dads watching the Fukurōdani game. He glanced down at Bokuto as he slammed down a razor sharp line shot, but felt no joy in watching it.

“What’s wrong, son?”

“They lost.”

“Who? Karasuno?”

“The black team.”

“I’m surprised you identified with them,” his dad said. “I would’ve thought for sure you would’ve loved Karasuno.”

“Why? They’re totally lame.”

His papa snickered, “They aren’t, but… It's like you to root for the lame ones.”

“It is not.”

“Are you going to go get their autographs before they leave?” His dad leaned over to look at him.

Cole glanced down at their court as they bowed to their audience and thanked them for coming.

“It’s now or never,” his papa said.

Cole shuffled on his feet before gripping his jacket tightly and taking off to hopefully meet up with them before they were gone. He ran down to where he thought they’d gone and followed the sound of regretful and angry voices. He paused as they sounded tearful. He supposed losing wasn’t easy. He peeked around the corner and saw the team heading down a staircase and his head spun. Their energy was intense.

He slowly approached them as they spoke, and the rat-boy was the first one to notice him.

«Hey, there’s a kid.»

«What, Suna, there’s lots of—»

Blondie stopped talking as he followed the rat-boy’s outstretched finger, pointing directly at Cole.

«Uh?» The sad copy of blondie asked. «’Tsumu, what does it want?»

«He isn’t an  _ it,»  _ the white haired guy said before turning to Cole and leaning down on the stairs, «What can we do for you? Are you lost?»

«He’s taller than you. Don’t talk to him like he’s five,» Rat-boy said before waving Cole away. «Hey, go’way.»

Blondie jumped and waved his hands at Rat-boy, «Hey! Just because he’s tall doesn’t mean he’s smart! He could totally be lost! He’s probably hungry, too. And all alone.»

«God,  _ I’m  _ hungry,» Sad twin said. «Can we just go?»

«This child is  _ our  _ responsibility now!» Blondie said, jumping down beside Cole and shrinking away when he realized he was an  _ entire four inches  _ shorter than him. «Jesus, what are they feeding you?»

Cole blinked up at him with stars in his eyes, “You’re the setter!»

«Uh, what?» Blondie blushed.

“Will you sign my jacket?”

Blondie blinked at his outstretched hands, holding both his jacket and a marker. He took in the signatures already on the back and put it all together. His blush deepened as he took the jacket, realizing a clearly foreign child was at his high school tournament, wanting his signature despite losing to the likes of Karasuno.

He squatted down and held the jacket over his knee, printing his name out somewhere below Akaashi’s. When he was done, he presented the jacket back up to Cole with a smile. The little american libero took it and gawked at the simple markings on the fabric, the coolest thing he’d seen since he saw Bokuto’s for the first time. 

“Thank you,” Cole bowed.

Blondie stood and bowed back before looking at the rest of the team, «Guess I really  _ am  _ the coolest here!»

«Yeah?» Sad twin moved forward and Cole moved out of his way. «Let me see that.»

He took Cole’s jacket from him and spun Rat-boy around so he could use his back as a writing surface. He signed his name right next to Blondie’s then passed the jacket to Rat-boy who sighed and signed his own name in admittedly elegant handwriting. He then passed it to their ace, and the second coolest, if you asked Cole his opinion. He smiled as he signed and handed it back to Cole.

«Looks like you’re not cool anymore, ‘Tsumu.»

«I’m still the only one he asked,» Blondie crossed his arms.

Cole frowned down at the jacket and the guy with the white hair put his hand on his shoulder. Cole looked up and met his eye.

«What’s wrong?»

Cole couldn’t understand his words, but understood everything his eyes said. He grinned softly and held the jacket and marker up to him. The white haired guy took a small step back, evidently surprised by the action. He slowly took them, then copied Blondie by squatting and using his knees as a writing surface so he could sign his name. When he was done, he stood and stared down at his name along with his teammates’. Cole watched him stare for a long moment before he handed his jacket back.

Then, he put his hands on Cole’s shoulders and smiled at him. He couldn’t explain it, but Cole would never be the same after that smile. He watched as they started to walk away.

“Hey!” Cole said as they got a bit distant from him.

They turned around and Cole pointed at Blondie, knowing he wouldn’t understand him. He gripped his jacket closely to himself as he yelled.

“I’m going to play you some day! In a world series! And I’m gonna win!”

Blondie’s expression turned from surprised to amused, «I have no idea what you’re saying, but you remind me of someone else I know.»

The team turned away again and walked on, ever forward, leaving Cole behind them, along with their game, along with Nationals, and in some cases, high school itself.

«That was a challenge, and I won’t step down. Even if I have no idea who you are...» Blondie glanced over his shoulder. «I promise I will never lose to you. Not to anyone. Not ever again.»

Cole’s eyes widened as he saw the competition return to Blondie’s eyes at a blinding level. He knew it. He knew he would one day stand across from Blondie on a court, professionally. It may not he as a setter— but regardless.

He’d beat him some day.

If he could beat Blondie, he could beat anyone.

He gripped his jacket so tightly in his hands that his knuckles went white as he smiled devilishly at their signatures.

Bokuto, too.

He’d beat them  _ both.  _ And Karasuno.

And everyone.

“Oh, just watch me,” he breathed.


	2. Friends?

Ryan stood in the middle of the court of his new gym in California. He was the first to arrive, but he was used to that. He was so,  _ so  _ thankful to be off of Canada’s team, but he didn’t hold out much hope that the United States would really be much different.

He walked over to the ball cart and removed one. He spun it in his hands before pressing it to his nose. The smell of the leather always soothed him. The atmosphere of the gym was safe. He could truly be himself there and no one would have anything to say. And if they did… It didn’t matter, because he could outperform whoever it was.

He turned and dropped the ball on the floor before clutching his hammering heart, “Jesus Christ.”

“Oh,” a tall guy with dark hair leaned down and picked up the rolling ball. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” Ryan held his hands out and the guy passed the ball back.

“I’m Cole Horowitz,” the guy said. “I’m new.”

“Oh,” Ryan turned away. “I’m new, too.”

“What’s your name?”

“Nyholm.”

“I thought so. You played for Canada last year.”

“Yep,” Ryan said before throwing the ball up, ready to serve.

“You’re really good. I’m lucky to be on a team with you.”

Ryan allowed the ball to fall before turning back, “Of course I’m good. I’m on this team. I’d hope you're good, too.”

“I’m alright.”

“Just alright?”

“Yeah,” Cole smiled.

Ryan hummed disapprovingly before picking the ball back up and gesturing to the other side of the net with his head.

“What position do you play? Middle blocker?”

“No,” Cole smiled, putting his bag and jacket down and walking to where he was directed to. “Libero.”

“Libero, huh?”

“I know I’m kind of tall, but—“

“No,” Ryan said. “A libero with really long arms is the dream. I just hope you can move fast enough to compensate. But if you’re here, I’m sure that’s the case.”

Cole lowered down, anticipating a serve. Ryan had been working on jump floats. He wasn’t great at them, always focusing on spike serves. His old coach was angry that he wanted to switch it up.

_ “If it ain’t broken, don’t fix it.” _

But how could you ever be satisfied with knowing something existed that you couldn’t do? Personally, he couldn’t.

_ He stood on the court across from Brazil. It was the round before the semifinals in the world series. He held his hands on his knees as he panted, sweat falling from his chin. _

_ His eyes raked up the opposing setter’s body— Tōru fucking Oikawa. His hero. His role model. His ultimate rival. Oikawa stared down at him with a wicked smile. Ryan panted harder as he stood straight again and lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. _

_ “Don’t get too cocky, now, Tōru. That last point was ours.” _

_ Oikawa stared at him and shook his head before his eyes glinted. Ryan watched him walk back and did the same, getting into position to serve. His teammates all stood with their hands behind their heads and shifted as they waited for the whistle. _

_ He pressed the ball between his hands and closed his eyes before letting out a long exhale. He waited for that whistle. He didn’t visualize his serve. He didn’t visualize where he wanted to hit it or where he wanted it to go. He didn’t picture the other team struggling to get it. That was fruitless when it came to jump floats. It never went the way you wanted it to, no matter how skilled you were. _

_ The whistle blew.  _

_ Ryan opened his eyes and threw the ball up. He watched it closely as he jumped, but at the last second, Oikawa caught his eye. He cursed as he readjusted his gaze. His hand wasn’t stiff enough. The tips of his fingers pulled on the ball as it divorced his palm. The leather sphere spun ever so slightly as it flew over, allowing Brazil to easily receive it.  _

_ He sighed and ran to the front of the court. He knew Oikawa. He studied him for years. He knew what was coming. He didn’t know if he could stop it, though. _

_ Oikawa jumped up at the pass as if spiking. Ryan’s eyes ate up his every microexpression. Time slowed as he watched his form slowly change.  _

_ ‘A set or a setter dump?’ He thought.  _

_ He watched as Oikawa’s left hand dipped slightly and the corner of his mouth twitched minutely. _

_ ‘A setter dump.” _

_ Ryan jumped as the ball left Oikawa’s fingers and slammed his hand against the ball, fighting against the force of Oikawa himself. He glared into his face as he attempted shoving the ball back over, but Oikawa won. Of course he did. He always did. _

_ Ryan had no choice but to watch the ball fall to the floor. His team was too slow to pick it up.  _ He  _ couldn’t touch it again. He sighed and looked back up at Oikawa. _

_ «Maybe you should stick to spike serving.» _

_ Ryan watched his back as he moved back and held his hand up for the ball. The frustration that’d been growing in him for the entire game— his entire season, came to a head within his chest. He stood perfectly still as he watched Oikawa brush his hair back out of his face. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides so hard they shook. _

_ “Come on, get back!” His captain yelled. _

_ Ryan ripped his eyes away from Oikawa’s and turned aggressively before going back to his spot on the court, vowing he’d never allow Oikawa to have the upper hand again. _

Ryan threw the ball up and jumped to meet it, keeping his palm entirely flat and stiff. He watched it go over the net and studied the new libero’s reaction. Cole watched the ball closely, adjusting where he stood and held his hands over his head. Ryan’s heart sank as the guy got it up perfectly and had it fall exactly in the middle of the court, where the invisible setter stood.

“Damn it,” he breathed.

“Hey!” Cole shouted, running to get the ball. “That was an  _ awesome  _ jump float! I had no idea where it was going to go, you know!”

“Yeah?” Ryan glared. “You sure  _ seemed  _ like it.”

“Nah,” Cole laughed, throwing the ball up and catching it a few times. “Absolutely a fluke.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Cole caught the ball and met Ryan’s eye severely. Ryan sat back, shocked and entranced by the darkness of them— but there was something surprisingly light behind them.

“Maybe it wasn’t a  _ total  _ fluke,” Cole smirked. “But a  _ normal  _ player wouldn’t have got that.”

“You think you’re that good, huh?”

“Good enough to make the team at eighteen years old!”

“You’re  _ eighteen?” _

“Yep!”

“Makes sense.”

“Huh? Why?”

Ryan snickered as he turned away, “You act like a teenager.”

Cole glared at him and pressed the ball hard between his hands, “So what? I’d rather act like a teenager than an old man like you!”

“Yeah, what—“ Ryan froze as he saw Cole’s jacket on the floor. He slowly picked it up and examined the black markings on the back of it.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Cole ran over, attempting to get the jacket back.

“Kōtarō Bokuto. Keiji Akaashi. Rintarō Suna. The Miya twins… You… Saw them?”

Cole stared down at him, “Uh, yeah?”

“That’s so cool.”

Cole shrugged as he ripped the jacket out of his hands, “I guess so.”

“I saw a tournament there, too. But it was just in Miyagi.”

“Miyagi?”

“Yeah, like, in Japan?”

“Oh?”

“Years ago. It was the only game my parents would stay for. Aoba Johsai versus Shiratorizawa.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

Ryan looked up at Cole, “It’s the reason I practice as hard as I do.”

Cole frowned at him before looking at the signatures on his jacket, “I relate.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I saw Karasuno play against Inarizaki. It was then that I decided I never wanted to be an underdog.”

Ryan furrowed his brow at him, “What do you mean?”

“No one believed Karasuno should win. But they did. They beat the  _ Miya Twins.  _ But… I don’t want to be the Karasuno.”

“You want to be the Inarizaki,” Ryan said, smiling.

Everyone wanted to be on the strong team with the seemingly unbreakable reputation. Cole really was a teenager. There was only an advantage in being underestimated... if you had the skill to back it up.

“No,” Cole breathed, gripping his jacket tightly.

“No?”

“No. I want to be the team that  _ beats _ the Inarizakis.”

Ryan’s eyes widened as he looked up at him. Cole merely stared at his jacket, but Ryan could see the fire behind his eyes. It was a look he knew well. He felt the same way, only about Oikawa.

He slowly stood and put a hand on Cole’s shoulder and the libero turned to look at him. 

“Well, then,” Ryan said, looking down at the signatures. “We have a lot of work to do if we’re going to be that team.”

“Yeah,” Cole smiled. “I’m excited to finally be in a league that people care about. High school was fine, but it was just an extracurricular to them.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed. “This is your life now. I expect you to behave as such.”

Cole threw his jacket down, “This has  _ always  _ been my life.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ryan offered his hand out. “Welcome to the other side, then. The grass is greener here.”

“Even with the drought? But… Thanks,” Cole smiled as he shook his hand. “And you know, Nyholm?”

Ryan hummed his acknowledgment as Cole walked back to the net, facing away from him.

“I’m glad you’re on  _ my  _ team and not another one.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’d be a real pain in the ass to play against.”

“I’m getting the same feeling about you.”

“You really think so?” Cole giggled. “Good. Hopefully Atsumu feels the same way when he gets a load of me.”

Ryan took the ball from him, eliciting a surprised look from the libero, “Passion for the sport is half the game. Don’t ever let up on it, or I’ll call you out.”

“The same goes to you.”

“Good. That’s what I expect from my teammate.”

“Teammate,” Cole repeated with a large grin. “Friend.”

“Friend?”

“Friend!”

“We’ll see,” Ryan turned away. “Get back over there.”

“Right!” Cole shouted, ducking under the net.

Ryan faced away from him for a moment longer with the word  _ friend  _ circling his brain. He could stomach the idea of teammates, but friends? Could Cole be a friend? He stared down to the ball. He supposed only time would tell.

“Give me another jump float, Nyholm!” Ryan looked over with a slack jaw. “I’ll just do better than last time.”

The setter smirked and walked over to the back of the court, “I’ll make sure you never make another receive again.”

Cole laughed loudly, a bright bubble of youthful optimism, “No. I’ll make you wonder if gravity is even real!”

Ryan couldn’t help but smile at him, “We’ll see about that, too.”


End file.
